The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

the honour?” the earl said. Reluctantly Beth surrendered her arm to him, and Caroline and Edwin walked ahead, Caroline casting a sympathetic glance over her shoulder at her friend as they went.
    They were the last to enter the dining room, and just as they were about to cross the threshold, the earl held back, forcing Beth to halt as well.
    “May I have a brief word, before we go in?” he said, to Beth’s surprise. She had intended to politely avoid him all evening, as far as that was possible at such a small gathering, and had expected him to do the same. Instead he seemed to be set on the opposite course of action. She nodded her head in acquiescence and waited for him to speak.
    “I would just like to say that I was utterly appalled by the conduct of my profligate wastrel of a son with regard to yourself. His behaviour was despicable and inexcusable.”
    “Yes, it was,” said Beth, impressed by his bluntness, and returning it. “But he is a grown man, my lord, and should make his own apologies.”
    “Indeed he should, but will not. I wish therefore to apologise for him, as I must assume some responsibility for how he has turned out, being his father.”
    “Children are influenced, but not wholly made by their parents,” she replied, thinking of Richard. “When they are adults they must take responsibility for their own actions. But I will admit, I did feel a little awkward tonight and your apology has put me at ease. Thank you.”
    They entered the dining room.
    “I would also like to say that I feel you have made a far wiser choice in taking Anthony to husband than Daniel. He is a quite remarkable man,” the earl continued.
    “Do you know Anthony well, my lord?” Beth asked. Her husband had never mentioned the earl as being a particular friend of his.
    “I would go so far as to say that I know him better than most people, your good self excepted, of course,” he replied, leading her to the only two vacant seats left, near the top of the table, where the highest ranking guest would be expected to sit.
    The first course arrived, a mutton broth, and, as is the case at most dinner parties, the conversation began, hesitantly at first, and then more enthusiastically as the half-eaten soup was removed and the second course of roast beef was served. Glasses tinkled, wine, thankfully of good quality, was poured, cutlery clattered, and the earl listened with amusement as Beth gave detailed replies to Lady Wilhelmina’s carefully probing questions about her sudden return to England and subsequent time in Manchester, without revealing anything of moment at all, to that lady’s frustration. The noise level grew. Lord Winter, having listened to Sir Anthony extolling the virtues of Manchester, began to expound, tactlessly and at length, about the merits of the southern towns of England over the north. Edwin and Thomas Fortesque, both MPs, seemed to be continuing a debate begun earlier that day in Parliament, and Anne and the Cunningham sisters were happily discussing curtain material, Lydia reluctantly joining them.
    “Ah, that is one of the advantages of breastfeeding, Anthony. It has given me a cleavage,” Caroline declared into one of those odd sudden silences that naturally punctuate any lively gathering. Edwin looked up, startled. The eyes of every male in the room rested involuntarily on his wife’s bosom. She reddened. A brief unnatural silence descended on the table. During this Sir Anthony had been attempting to cut a potato, which now startled him by sliding from under his knife and skidding from his plate across the table, almost overturning Clarissa’s wineglass. The previous potato the baronet had tried to halve had subsided sullenly into a pile of pale yellow slush at the first touch of his knife.
    “I must say, Lord Edward, that the food tonight is remarkably…English,” he said, retrieving the runaway vegetable from the damask tablecloth and returning it to the edge of his plate.
    “Thank